


A Catastrophe of Epic Pawportions

by FestiveFerret



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Adorable Steve Rogers, Aliens, Cat Crack, Cats, Crack, M/M, Tactical Breadstick, Tonny Starp, Tony gets kidnapped for his brain AGAIN, cats everywhere, complete nonsense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-04
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2019-02-28 00:21:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13259673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FestiveFerret/pseuds/FestiveFerret
Summary: Tony's being held hostage for his genius engineering skillsagain,but at least this time he has Steve with him.Well, and the rest of the Avengers. But they've been turned into kittens.





	A Catastrophe of Epic Pawportions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cap Iron Man Community](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Cap+Iron+Man+Community).



> For the Community Prompt: _fake dating and cats, way too many cats_
> 
> I wish I could say I'd been under the influence of something when I wrote this. Then I'd have an excuse. As it is, all I can do is apologize. 
> 
> Warning: Absolute nonsense ahead.
> 
> <3

 

It wasn’t the first time an Avengers party had been - quite literally - crashed by alien lifeforms, but it was the first time any of them had encountered anything quite like this. 

Tony caught Natasha’s eye from where she hid behind a table, popping up to eye up her targets every few seconds. “What is going on?” he yelled across the gap between them, pressing his back against the pillar that barely blocked him from the alien mob’s view. Broken glass littered the floor by his feet. All he’s seen were flashes of light and scattering superheroes.

“There are at least eight of them,” Nat panted, grimacing. She straightened up and took three shots. Tony didn’t bother looking - she always hit her target. “They got Clint and Thor. I think I saw Wanda go down.” She grit her teeth, popped up, fired again. “And my bullets are  _ doing nothing.” _

_ Fuck fuck fuck. _ This was Tony’s worst nightmare: his friends dropping like flies to an invading alien horde. He fell to his knees and shuffled behind a long serving table, reaching up blindly to grab for some sort of weapon - a knife, anything. His fingers closed around something thin and sharp feeling. He tugged it down.

A breadstick.

Okay. Well. 

A noise behind him made Tony spin, brandishing the breadstick as threateningly as possible. There were six aliens in a semi-circle behind him. Nat was nowhere to be seen. The aliens were broad and tall but mostly seemed to be made of some kind of shifting, multi-coloured gel. The not insignificant part of Tony’s brain that was always doing Science wanted to touch it, smell it,  _ sample it,  _ but now was not the time. Probably.

The group made a muttering, chattering noise. Tony squared up, prepared to do what he had to with his breadstick, when Rhodey darted into the fray, one Iron Patriot gauntlet on his hand, firing wildly towards the aliens. He screeched out his war cry - possibly terrifying for the aliens, but Tony knew it was the same noise he made when Alicia Harper had walked in on him changing in second year at MIT. The repulsor blasts made a very pretty show of lights as they collided with the aliens, but otherwise there was no effect whatsoever.

Rhodey rolled into a fighting stance in front of Tony. “Where’s your suit?”

“I don’t know!” Tony slipped behind Rhodey, brandishing his breadstick on Rhodey’s un-gauntleted side. “I keep calling it but it won’t come. JARVIS isn’t responding… the whole tower has gone dark.”

“Fuck, this isn’t doing anything anyway. What kind of creatures are these?” Rhodey started backing up as the aliens advanced, pushing Tony back behind him. 

“I don’t know…” They were hopelessly outgunned, and the other Avengers, party guests, were nowhere to be seen.

The blob monster at the front lifted a long stick with a glowing red ball at the end and pointed it at Rhodey’s chest. “Rhodey…”

“I know, I know. Tony stay behind me.”

Fuck that, Tony was going to - to find something and then - then - There was a brilliant flash of light, and Rhodey’s pressure against Tony’s chest disappeared. “Rhodey!” The gauntlet clattered to the ground, falling to pieces without Rhodey’s control to keep it together. Rhodey’s clothes fluttered to the floor. “Oh my god, Rhodey.” Tony fell to his knees, grabbing a handful of Rhodey’s shirt. “Oh my god what did they do…? Rhodey!” 

“Mew?”

Tony pried his hot, damp eyes open and was met with two bright green ones with slitted pupils, staring back at him. “... Rhodey?”

“Mew?” The cat said again, cowering down into the puddle of Rhodey’s shirt. Tony looked up at the aliens fiercely. 

“What the fuck did you do?!” He picked up the tiny kitten, and it shifted down into his arms, hiding its face. “You turned Rhodey into a cat? I can’t even begin to describe -”

The aliens advanced as one and, with his heart-pounding, Tony set Rhodey the Cat carefully behind him on the floor. The blobs muttered to each other in their alien language while Tony stood, tense, one hand wielding the weaponized breadstick, the other held out, palm towards them as if he were wearing the repulsors. But he wasn’t. He was defenseless.

The aliens stopped.

“Tonny Starp,” one of the alien’s managed.

Tony lowered one of his hands in surprise. “I - what?”

“Tonny. Starp,” it repeated, rising up a bit at the end as if it were a question.

“Yes…? I think that’s… me?”

The aliens chattered excitedly amongst themselves for a moment. One of the other blobs stepped forward and did the blobbish equivalent of clearing its throat. “You.. will build… for us… or not... let you go.” It sounded carefully rehearsed. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?  _ Again?!  _ Can I please go two months without getting kidnapped for my engineering expertise? It’s getting  _ old.”  _ Tony tossed the breadstick to the side in frustration, watching it snap into pieces and scatter across the hardwood floor. Now that he was looking, he could see little pairs of eyes hidden in various nooks and crannies around the room. Everyone had been turned into a cat. Except him. Great.

There was a disapproving silence from the aliens, then they turned to chatter amongst themselves. As soon as they turned away Tony heard footsteps above him and turned just in time to see Steve leap, with a manly grunt, off the top balcony and fling his shield out towards the aliens. 

“Steve don’t it’s -!” But it was too late. The shield bounced off their invulnerable casing and ricocheted right back, catching Steve in the stomach as he hit the ground and rolled up to his feet. He stumbled back from the unexpected impact, landing on his ass.

“What the -?”

“They have shielding,” Tony said with a shrug. He caught movement out of the corner of his eye. One of the aliens was raising the Cat Gun. “No! NO no no!” Tony dove between Steve and the aliens. “Don’t you dare. He’s my last human. I need him.” Besides, Tony was pretty sure seeing Steve perfect blue eyes in the head of an adorable kitten would break him.

The blob hesitated. “Need?”

“Yes, uh yes. I need him. Whatever you need me to build. I, uh, can’t do it without Steve. He’s my right-hand man.” He shot Steve a look that said  _ go with it _ and Steve gave him a small nod in return.

The alien slowly lowered the Cat Gun, looking at Tony with squishy uncertainty. The blobs formed a huddle and debated this latest development. Tony took the opportunity to reach back and help Steve to his feet. 

“Where is everyone?” Steve asked.

“I’ll explain in a minute,” Tony muttered under his breath. “For now, just play along.”

“Tonny Starp,” one alien began. “You have… partner?” He turned back to chatter with one of the other aliens and there was some confused sounding muttering. “Partner?”

“Uh…” Great. They thought Steve was his “Partner.” How did you say “Lab Assistant” in Goo Monster? Tony took a careful step back, still standing between Steve and the Catifier. “Sure… he’s my partner. I need him, for, uh, emotional support. Can’t build you your death star without my honey.” 

Steve made an odd noise behind him, a bit like an old squeaky toy being stepped on.

“Hmm,” the aliens muttered some more. “Prove.”

“I - what? You want me to prove that Steve is my partner?”

More muttering. “Yes. Partner-bond-form action. Prove.”

Tony gaped at them. He felt Steve come up behind him. “I - no, what? We don’t do that kind of thing in - uh - public. What are you even -? Partner-bond-form action. What the fuck does that mean? Steve what do they want us to - Steve?” Steve was staring at the aliens with the expression he usually adopted before he jumped off something very high with absolutely no plan for how the fall would end. “Steve?”

“Oh for fuck’s sake -” Steve spun around, grabbed Tony, and dipped him into the most heart-stopping, blood boiling, foot popping kiss Tony had ever had in his life. His arms came up around Steve’s neck of their own accord, winding into his hair and hanging on for dear life. Steve broke the kiss, spinning Tony back up onto his feet, then stepped away. He had the defiant look of someone who had just told his commanding officer to stuff it, the effect only slightly marred by the fact that Steve’s ears were so red, Tony expected his hair to burst into flames at any moment. 

“Jesus Christ, Steve, where did you learn to kiss like that?” But Steve was looking back at the aliens, tense, waiting for a verdict.

The group of blobs hemmed and hawed amongst themselves, then one at the back said, unsteadily. “That partner action? ...Shake?”

“Pardon?” Tony was starting to regret throwing away his tactical breadstick, since he would very much like to chuck something at their goopy, jelly heads. Even if it would just bounce off. 

“Human partner bond,” one said then, with great focus, extended a jutting part of its jellied body into a mock arm. The other alien next to it did the same. They brought their blobby stumps together, raised them up once, then lowered them down.

“They wanted us to shake hands, Steve,” Tony said carefully. He could still taste Steve’s after dinner coffee on his lips.

“Yes.” Steve’s voice sounded like it was being squeezed out of a nearly empty toothpaste tube. “I see that now.”

“Do you think we convinced them anyway?”

“Better fucking have,” Steve muttered under his breath, and Tony couldn't help but snort with laughter.

The kiss seemed to have satisfied the aliens or at least confused them enough that they shrugged and moved on. They demanded that Tony and “Partner” go down to the workshop and get started on the plans that they had on a little info disk. Step one would be building something that could read the info disk, but that wouldn’t be too hard. 

There didn’t seem to be anything they could do to resist right now, so Tony decided it was best to go along with it, and at least made sure everyone was okay. “Fine, but I’m bringing my teammates with me,” Tony said firmly. 

The aliens muttered and shook their heads.

“Teammates? Where is everyone? Are they here?” Steve asked. Tony sighed. No putting it off any longer. He lifted the fabric covering on the couch, and Steve peered underneath. Four tiny pairs of eyes stared back. “Oh,” Steve said.

“Oh, indeed. They’re scattered all over the room.”

It took some convincing, and some awkward kitten wrangling, but the aliens eventually shooed them all down to Tony’s workshop. The cats spread around, finding nooks and crannies to hide in, and the aliens left the info disk and shuffled out, locking the door behind them. Tony picked up a wrench, tested the heft, then flung it across the workshop until it crashed into a pile of discarded armour pieces with a satisfying noise.

Steve glared up at him from where he was trying to lure Wanda out from underneath Tony’s desk. “Seriously? You’re going to throw a temper tantrum?”

Tony rounded on Steve. “You have  _ no idea  _ how much it sucks to be kidnapped every other day because some  _ dickhead  _ wants to use your brain for his own ends. I am  _ sick of it!”  _

Steve pushed to his feet and crossed the workshop, leaving the kittens to cower under the desk. He hovered for a second then rubbed his hands awkwardly over Tony’s biceps. “I know.” His voice had dropped low and apologetic, but also uncertain. “I’m sorry. Can I help?”

“I -” All the fight went out of Tony in the face of Steve’s comforting touch. He wasn’t mad at Steve, he was mad at a gang of Jello wannabes and their fucking kitten cannon. “No. Sorry. Temper tantrum over.”

“It’s okay to be mad,” Steve said carefully, as if he were reading it out of a Therapy 101 booklet.

“I am aware. And I am mad, but I will stop throwing things because it scares the cats.” And that was a sentence Tony never thought he would utter.

They both turned to look. Some of the cats had poked their heads cautiously out from under various pieces of furniture. Steve bent down and started making the most absurd kissy noises Tony had ever heard in his life. A little grey kitten came charging out from under the sofa and bumped against Steve’s knuckles with its forehead. The purring was loud enough that Tony wondered for a moment if he’d left the backup generator on.

“Which one is that?”

Tony peered at the tiny cat. “I feel like that’s Clint.”

Steve picked maybe-Clint up and examined him. “He seems alright.”

“Yeah, as long as the Jelly Babies can turn him back into a human.”

Clint’s boldness seemed to inspire the other cats, and soon Steve was covered in vibrating, head-bumping affection. Tony stayed back, uncertain. Animals didn’t usually like him very much. Steve, on the other hand, was smiling and stroking his hand across the back of any kitten that got close enough for him to touch. 

Tony sighed and collapsed into this desk chair - checking it for kittens first - his head in his hands. This was certainly one of the weirdest days he’d had as an Avenger, and he’d been there when Loki had teleported the entire tower to Atlantis. 

“What do they want you to build?” Steve asked. Arms full of squirming, humming fur.

Tony shook his head. “I don't know. I don’t have anything that can read this info disk. I’ll have to build that first.”

Steve shrugged, and Clint slipped backwards off his broad shoulder as it moved, paws scrambling wildly for a hold but failing to grip his t-shirt with tiny kitten claws. Steve’s hand darted back and caught Clint before he could hit the floor. “Still falling off of things, even as a kitten.” He turned back to Tony. “Why don’t you start with that, then? If you know what they want to build, maybe we can understand them better, or turn their technology against them? Build something else? That’s what you did in Afghanistan, right? And you didn’t have your whole workshop at your disposal.”

Tony watched a different kitten pounce on the edge of the rug then tip over onto its side, kicking out wildly with its back feet. “I suppose.” Steve grinned brilliantly at him, and Tony’s stomach did a strange flip-flop. He was flooded with a shock memory of Steve’s lips on his. Seriously, where had Steve learned to kiss like that? It was… a lot.

An orange kitten with white patches climbed tentatively into Steve’s lap, and he lifted it up. “Which one is this?”

“I think that’s Pepper.” He wasn’t sure how he knew; he just did. Tony scrambled around on his desk for a moment then came up with his label maker. He handed it to Steve.

Steve took it and stared at it. “Tony… are you suggesting I stick _labels_ on our friends…?”

“They’re cats.”

“Yes - I - Tony are you suggesting I stick  _ labels  _ on a bunch of cats?”

“What the fuck else are you going to do? You want to know which one’s which, you’re going to have to figure it out and then keep it straight somehow.”

Steve took the label maker but he was still staring skeptically at it. Tony wasn’t surprised when, while he was starting to assemble a disk reader, Steve started rummaging through drawers and digging out other supplies. Tony let Steve’s activities in the workshop shift to the back of his mind as he focused on magnetic strips and IR cameras. It took over an hour for Tony to botch something together that could get the data off the disk. He could hear Steve calling out names once in a while, presumably seeing which kitten came to which name. When he finally got the disk spinning and data downloading, he allowed himself a fist pump and a small, “Yes!” He spun in his chair to tell Steve and -

“Steve.”

“Yes.”

“Did you arts and crafts collars for the Catvengers?”

Steve coloured prettily. “Well, we needed to be able to tell them apart.”

Tony stared at the side of Steve’s bright pink cheek. How was he even real? Steve pointed them out one by one, naming them as he did so. A grey cat with fur so lush and thick it seemed blue when it caught the light jumped into Tony’s lap, now that it wasn’t trapped under the desk. He petted it idly before realizing that the tag said “Nat.” His hand stilled. “Um.”

“What?”

“Do you think they know who they are?” Tony asked.

Thor, a beautiful maine coon, rolled onto his back, batting his paws in the air, and Steve tickled his tummy. “I don’t know. They seem to know who they are - they came when I called, for the most part - but they also definitely think they’re kittens. They act like kittens.”

Nat arched her back as she rubbed against Tony’s chest, eyes blinking closed. She was never this affectionate as a human. Tony hesitantly ran his fingers along her back, and her spine curved up to meet the touch. He scritched experimentally behind her ear and she collapsed in his lap with a happy huff, rubbing her cheeks against his fingers.

“Hmm.”

Tony caught Steve eyeing him from where he still sat on the floor, covered in kittens. “It’s kind of nice, isn’t it?” Steve said.

Tony dropped his hand from Nat’s fur and turned back to his desk, watching the download inch its way towards 100%. “I plead the fifth.”

Nat leapt down, and Tony found himself sucked into decoding the data. He wasn’t sure how much time passed, but when he next looked up, Steve was spooning canned ravioli out onto plates on the floor and the kittens were going nuts over it. “You’re feeding them Chef Boyardee?”

Steve shrugged. “There isn’t anything else in here with meat in it. Hopefully, they won’t be cats for long.” He looked up and caught Tony’s eye. “Hungry?”

Tony watched the cats destroy a plate of cold, vaguely pasta-related mush. “Not anymore,” he muttered.

But Steve still managed to cobble together two sandwiches from what he found in Tony’s fridge, and Tony ate, hesitant at first, and then urgently when he realized he was starving. Chips and dip at the party suddenly seemed like days ago.

The data finished decoding, and Tony opened the files, spreading them out on the screen. They were blueprints for a device - a big one - and luckily they were mostly legible, if you knew what you were looking for. “Got it. Just need to -” He cut himself off, staring.

“Yes? You know what they want?” Steve picked up Bruce, who had finished eating, and carried him over to stand next to Tony. Steve peered at the screen, but without Tony’s knowhow there was no way he’d know what it was for.

“It’s - Well.” Tony paused. There was no easy way to say this. “It’s a kitten grooming machine.”

“A what.”

A manic laugh bubbled up in Tony’s chest, and he pushed it down. There was time for a breakdown later. Probably. Between breakfast and his next kidnapping. “It’s a machine. That grooms  _ cats. Nicely.”  _

All was perfectly still and quiet in the workshop, save for the sounds of eighteen hungry kitties gulping down fake tomato sauce and meat by-products.

“Well,” Steve finally said, when he could find his voice again. In his arms, Bruce sneezed. Tony sighed. It was the cutest fucking sneeze he’d ever heard in his life, and now he’d never be able to look Bruce in the eye again.

He could start breaking things. Just - break everything. The crazed laugh pushed at the bottom of his lungs again, cramping his stomach. Then Steve’s hand landed on his shoulder, calming, steadying.

“Why don’t you just do it?” 

“What?”

“Just make the damn thing, Tony.” Steve said, with a half-shrug. “It’s not like it’s some horrible weapon. They just love cats. This once, cave to demands, make the thing and send them on their way. I am all for taking the high ground, but maybe this is the time we just… do it.”

Tony opened and closed his mouth several times. “I…” It would certainly be easier. The aliens didn’t seem outwardly aggressive, besides the whole catting. Maybe if Tony was nice and made the thing, they’d turn everyone back and leave peacefully. He might even be able to sneak a sample of that goo… “I guess…”

Tony turned and found Steve beaming encouragingly at him. He settled back into work, finding it frustrating to sift through the blueprints without JARVIS to aid him, but he used to do this old school, a long time ago, and he still had the skills. He visualized the device in his mind, rotating through the blueprints and following the mechanical and electrical paths in tandem, tweaking every time he found something that wouldn’t work. It took a few hours, and the light outside was completely gone by the time he was finished, but eventually he had the design settled. He had to program the fabricators by hand, but they were still working - thank god - and they hummed to life, churning out piece after piece that Tony would eventually assemble.

“How’s it looking?” Steve called out, and Tony jumped, having forgotten anyone else was there.

“Uh, good, I guess. Fabricating now, so that’ll be a while.” 

Steve appeared at his side, a different sleeping kitten draped over his arm. He frowned. “You look exhausted, Tony. You should try to rest.”

Tony made a noncommittal noise, but let Steve lead him over to the couch. Instead of sitting on the cushions, Tony slid down to the floor with his back braced against it. If he got too comfortable he’d fall asleep. Steve settled in beside him, tucking the kitten - which was apparently Hill - in his lap.

Tony watched the cats wander the workshop, most working their way over towards the pair, curious, and realized that he must have been paying more attention with his periphery than he thought because he could name most of them easily now without looking at Steve’s ridiculous tags. 

Bruce was the tiny ragdoll kitten with a long, fluffy tail. Fury was the big, one-eyed ginger tom lounging on top of a supply cabinet in the corner. One white-tinged paw hung off the edge and whenever one of the other cats got too close, the tip of his tail would start twitching. Sharon - all white with four perfect black paws - was crouched on the edge of Tony’s chair, peering over the edge at an unsuspecting Pietro - a lanky black kitten who kept zipping around the room at double speed. He was still for the moment, however, and Sharon saw her chance. She slipped off the chair and pinned him to the floor. A flurry of hissing and tackling ensued. 

“Come on guys, don’t fight!” Steve tried, pointlessly. The kittens continued tussling until Steve grabbed his shield from where it leaned against the couch and started tipping it into the light. It caught the beam and a fuzzy fairy of light appeared on the floor. Seven pairs of eyes blew black, staring at the dancing spot. Steve kept working the shield, bringing it close enough that each kitten couldn’t resist smacking a paw over it only to peel it back and find nothing underneath. Tony found himself chuckling at their antics. 

Bruce appeared at his elbow, uninterested in the light, but staring eagerly at Tony. “He’s judging me for taking a break when there’s science to be done,” Tony joked, and Steve grinned back at him. 

“Not a great place to be judging from. Cats are incredibly lazy.”

“This lot aren’t.” Bruce sniffed at Tony’s fingers so he wiggled them, rattling them against the floor. Apparently, Bruce hadn’t been expecting them to move. He jumped two feet straight up in the air and landed twice the size he’d been when he took off, every one of his hairs at maximum puff. He arched his back and skipped away from the fingers, eyes wide and fixed on them suspiciously. He let out a miniature kitten hiss and flexed up again. Steve’s homemade collar, unable to withstand his tiny furry fury, snapped and flew off.

It was just - it was too much. Tony slapped a hand over his mouth to muffle the tsunami of laughter that was pressing against the back of his teeth. A snort slipped free, and Steve looked over, and that was it - Tony was gone. He collapsed on the floor, howling with laughter, sending kittens scattering every which way. 

“Tony,” Steve chastised when Hill darted off Steve’s lap with a tiny huff of kitten indignation. But he was laughing too now.

“Oh my god,” Tony howled, starting to feel that panicky need for oxygen that hit when you laughed too hard for too long. He sucked in a few sharp breaths. “I hope you’re taking pictures of these lunatics. Blackmail for years.”

Steve glared then shrugged in defeat. “I took video,” he admitted quietly, and that set Tony off again. “Tony…” Tony looked up and realized he’d slumped over against Steve’s shoulder in his mirth and Steve was gazing at him affectionately. “You should really have that rest.”

Tony wiped tears from his eyes and sat up, his breathing settling again. “It’s only like one in the morning. You’re not tired.”

“Yeah, but I wasn’t up all night last night building a ‘confetti cannon’ for the party.”

“Oh yeah!” Tony pouted. “We didn’t get to set off the confetti cannon before those animated Jello shots barged in.”

“I’m sure we’ll find another time. For now, get some sleep. I’ll keep an eye on the kittens.” Steve bumped his shoulder against Tony’s urging him towards the couch, but Tony’s eyes flicked up towards his desk. He should really get some of the programming done before fabrication finished… “Tony. I can see you planning. Get some sleep. You’ll be more efficient after you rest.”

It took all his strength to tear himself away from the plans swirling around in his head, but the couch cushions did look astonishingly comfortable. So, Tony shifted back and up, and sprawled out on the couch, his head resting on one arm. He expected Steve to get up and move away, but he stayed sitting, his back against the couch, his head by Tony’s knees. Tony could reach out and ruffle his hair if he wanted to.

Steve picked up his shield again, flashing the light for the kittens, who were recovered from the shock of Tony’s outburst, and Tony drifted off to dancing paws and swishing tails.

Tony woke slowly, with the heavy feeling that several hours had passed. He blinked his eyes open and had to smack a hand over his mouth to stop himself from making a noise. Steve still sat where he had been when Tony fell asleep but his arms were limp at his sides and his head lolled forward onto his chest. His eyes were softly closed and his lips were parted. 

And he was  _ covered  _ in cats.

Nat, Hill, and Bucky were curled up together in Steve’s lap. Pepper and Rhodey were stretched over each one of his shoulders. Pietro was on top of his head, one paw balanced precariously on Steve’s nose. Thor and Fury had claimed his feet, and Wanda and Bruce were tucked up under his arm. Steve’s other arm was up on the couch, stretched out along Tony’s leg, fingers just kissing the edge of Tony’s jeans. Clint was sprawled across Tony’s calf, snoring softly, and Tony wondered if Steve’s hand was there because he’d been petting a cat, or because he’d been petting… Tony.

He and Steve had been dancing around each other for so damn long. It had seemed important, or necessary, or something, that they didn’t jump into anything. They spent far too long kidding themselves that this might not, or should not, happen. But Tony knew he’d never be able to forget that kiss. And who knew? One of them might get turned into a cat someday. It was time to carpe diem. Or at least, carpe the super soldier. 

He had a cat grooming machine to build first, however.

Resolutions made, Tony eased himself out from under Clint, scooping him into his arms as he moved, then shifted off the couch, careful not to dislodge Steve or his collection of furry ornaments. With Clint purring in his lap, Tony attacked the blueprints with fresh vigour, adding a bit here and modifying a part there. When he was satisfied, he started fabrication again and switched to working on the programming.

Steve woke up when Tony started moving the fabricated pieces around, sending a volley of yawning, stretching kittens around the room. Newly invigorated, the kitties bounced around the in-progress construction, touching everything that glowed, wiggled, or hung free with their curious paws. Steve circled Tony while he worked, fending off their tiny attacks using distractions, chastising, and occasionally, begging.

It took twelve more hours, but Tony finally finished the device. Steve helped him snap the frame together, then held everything stoically off the floor while Tony wired up the electrical systems. When it was finally done, Tony plugged it in and clicked it on, smiling with satisfaction when it hummed to life. Steve hovered nervously beside him while Tony ran through diagnostics. They ran Clint through the machine and he came out the other end fluffy and slightly surprised, but clean and smelling like orange soda. The machine spit out a sheet of paper with a health report on it.

“Wow, Tony, this is -” Steve stared at the freshly groomed Clint “- weird. But I’m impressed.”

Tony rubbed his tired eyes with the heels of his hands. “I never want to speak of this again, Steve.”

“I don’t remember the original design calling for this.” Steve waved the health check sheet around.

Tony grimaced. “I may have added some things,” he muttered. He'd never seen Steve grin so brilliantly.

Steve banged on the locked door of the workshop until two of the blobs appeared. He gestured towards the machine then crossed his arms and glowered at them, suddenly 100% Captain America. “We did what you wanted. Now let us go.”

The aliens swarmed over to the machine, the rest of the gang arriving shortly after, and watched in obvious delight as Tony fed Bruce, Rhodey, and a very reluctant Fury through the machine. The jellied lifeforms chirruped and hummed with delight, petting their goopy mitts over Fury then shoving him back through the machine again until he was clean.

Steve covered his mouth with his hand. “Oh my god, Tony. They need a cat grooming machine because every time they touch the cats, they get all sticky,” he said through his fingers.

“I noticed.” Tony glared across the workshop. All that raw material, and for what?! He watched as Clint bumped up against the alien bodies, tiny eyes squeezed shut, goop soaking his fur. They petted him for several minutes, until his fur was sticking up in wild clumps, then shoved him through the device again, cooing when he came out clean and purring at the other end. “Alright, that’s enough fun!” Tony switched the machine off. “Turn our friends back and get the hell off our planet.”

The muttering from the aliens turned confused, and Tony caught “Tonny Starp” being thrown around a few times.

“Oh god, they’re going to want to keep me,” Tony sighed. Steve’s hand snapped to Tony’s arm and squeezed. He wasn’t looking at Tony, but his jaw went tight, and fuck if that wasn’t the hottest thing Tony had ever experienced. And that was including the Christmas cover which had been  _ twins.  _

But then one of the aliens bent down and picked Clint up in its sticky hands. “Keep,” it said, determinedly.

“No.” Steve shook his head. “That one’s ours. You’re going to turn all of the cats back into people.”

Another blob reached out and rubbed its paw over Clint’s back, making his fur stick up in a furious mohawk. He purred. “Keep?” it tried.

But Steve shook his head again, radiating power. “No.”

There was some muttering then the alien in the back raised the Cat Cannon. Tony tensed and Steve slipped in front of him, eyes never shifting from the weapon. Okay, that was even hotter.

But instead of pointing the gun at Steve, the alien held it point up in the air and started swinging it around. The tip glowed brighter and brighter until Tony was forced to cover his eyes. When the glaring light faded, Tony half expected to have paws, but instead, all of their friends and co-workers were sprawled, naked, around the workshop. Clint was covered in goo. There was a thump and Bruce rolled out from under the desk, rubbing his head.

The alien that had been holding Clint gave a sad, humming sigh and patted him gently on his head, sending his sticky hair wild in a similar look to kitten-Clint. 

“Well. What the fuck?” Clint asked calmly, blinking around the room.

Explanations took a while, and the aliens tried to help, which only made things worse. By the end, Tony had a pounding headache, and half of the Avengers were calling him “Tonny Starp” with obvious glee. Clothes had been distributed from Tony’s emergency stash, and there was something distinctly odd about seeing the whole team wearing his things.

Thank  _ god  _ Steve hadn’t needed anything. Seeing his t-shirt stretched across those pecs would probably put Tony in the hospital.

The aliens seemed distinctly depressed, and it took a while to work it out, but it became clear that they had intended to take a load of cats back with them. The knowledge that humans didn’t want to become cats and be transported back to their home planet to live in the lap of luxury was rather disappointing to them. After much discussion, it was decided that Nat and Clint would take the aliens to the nearest animal shelter and apply to adopt as many as they could fit in their ship. This brightened them up significantly, and they packed up their new soon-to-be-patented, Stark brand Cat-So-Clean with cheerful chittering.

Nat and Clint set off, the aliens in tow, and Tony leaned against the back of the couch and breathed heavily into his hands. The rest of the team filtered out after them - Bruce asking everyone why he smelled like orange soda - until it was just Steve and Tony left. “This has been the most ridiculous day,” Tony huffed. He needed a stiff drink and a long nap.

Steve grinned at him, leaning into his space, and Tony tipped back, wide-eyed. “So… I was thinking,” Steve started, voice pitched low so it was just for Tony. Something warm rumbled to life in Tony’s chest. “I’d like to -”

“Kiss me again?” Tony supplied, his mouth running faster than his brain.

Steve laughed, warm and rich. “I was going to say adopt a cat myself, but uh, yeah, if that’s on offer. I’d like that very much.”

Tony gripped Steve’s sleeve and dragged the smiling super soldier towards the elevators. Tony needed Steve, a stiff drink, and a nap, preferably with Steve wrapped around him.

And no fucking cats.

 

*

*

*

  
  


Clint and Natasha lounged on the couch, watching the others clean up from the party. They’d done their good deed for the day in cleaning out the cat shelter with the aliens - the police check alone had been a  _ nightmare  _ \- and Steve and Tony were upstairs enjoying some… peace and quiet.

Clint stretched, then scratched his tummy. He watched the group wander around the room with brooms and garbage bags. “Hey, Nat?”

“Yes?”

“Do you still feel a bit… cat-ish…?”

“Hmm? I -” Nat paused, considering. “Maybe…”

Clint tried to wiggle his whiskers, frowning. He had a persistent itch behind his ear… if only he could get his foot up there…   
  
  


 

Five minutes later, Thor hit the confetti cannon with a broom, setting it off, and the room emptied in seconds, Avengers scattering under the furniture and out the door fast enough that by the time the confetti settled on the ground, there was no one left for it to settle on.


End file.
